


to face unafraid the plans that we've made

by Lise



Series: Remember This Cold [54]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Caretaking, Delirium, Established Relationship, Feelings, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Loki, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sick Steve Rogers, Sickfic, feelings????, it's holiday fic without any of the holiday tropes, leaving off some tags because spoilers, maybe cried a little, wrote possibly the sappiest scene of my life for this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8924155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: Celebrating the end of another year in Wakanda. 
It'd be more of a celebration if Steve didn't come down with something nasty for the first time in seventy-odd years. And if he hadn't already been acting odd to begin with.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As is probably obvious, this fic takes place following "don't care if heaven won't take me back" in the Remember This Cold timeline. 
> 
> This was one of those fics I started writing with a somewhat clear idea of where it was going and then it took a hard left turn somewhere else. Which is not, I hasten to add, a bad thing! Just sort of a surprise. 
> 
> Last year for the holidays I posted a cute, short(ish) one-shot where I let Steve and Loki have some nice things, for once. There were feelings, it was fun. This year I decided to do it again, and ended up with something that was...more hurt/comfort-y than "fluffy", exactly, but I'm calling it good. 
> 
> Next May will officially mark the five year anniversary of the Remember This Cold series. Whether you've been reading since the beginning or just started last week, whether you've read every installment or are just now reading this one and wondering what the fuck I'm talking about - thanks. You're all stars. Yeah, even you. 
> 
> And now, the idiots you're actually here for.

Something was going on with Steve.

Loki had told himself - or tried to tell himself, with little success - that it was probably nothing, that he was jumping at shadows, making worries where there were none. Of course things were bound to be strange. Everything Steve knew had been snatched away from him once again. He was a stranger in a new land, his friends fractured, made a fugitive from the law. It would be more surprising, Loki told himself, if Steve were unaffected. 

The third day Loki woke alone, Steve already departed leaving nothing but a vague note behind, Loki had to acknowledge that he could not believe his own excuses. 

After all, on the whole Steve did not seem as though he was suffering. There was sadness, to be sure, and Loki knew for a fact that he actively sought to find out where Romanov had hidden herself (after she had, apparently, changed her mind), but he did not seem to be brooding on his losses in the way Loki might have feared.

No: it was just with _Loki_ that he was...strange. He seemed to slip away often, usually with vague and implausible excuses. Twice now Loki had caught him talking with Sam only to fall quiet the moment Loki entered the room, a guilty look on his face. He was distant, quiet. 

Loki stood in the living room of the suite T’Challa had granted them (and if that grated, being so beholden to another once again, he tried not to let it) and felt his heart sink. 

_What changed?_

_What did you_ do?

He heard someone at the door and turned, sharply. Steve opened it, expression distracted, troubled. 

“Back already?” Loki said, trying to keep his voice light, not accusatory, not (Norns forbid) _suspicious._ Steve started, looking up, and then smiled. Was it just a fraction of a second late, like he had to remember the expression? 

“I didn’t think I’d be gone long,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d wake up, though. Didn’t want you to worry.” 

“You must think me terribly fretful,” Loki said. 

“Aren’t you?” It sounded like he was teasing, but Loki picked at the words, suddenly wondering if that was the trouble. Had he been - _clinging_? Demanding too much of Steve, pushing too hard without realizing it? Steve’s small smile faltered when Loki didn’t respond. 

“Hey,” he said. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Loki said quickly, summoning a smile. “Perhaps I am.”

Steve relaxed, apparently appeased, and walked over to the kitchen. “Have you had breakfast yet? I wish they made coffee that had an effect on me, I could use it this morning.”

_What are you keeping from me?_ Loki thought of asking. _And why?_

He did not. Steve deserved his privacy, Loki reminded himself. And more than that, he thought he might be afraid of the answer.

* * *

Two days later, during which he barely saw his lover at all, Loki found Steve in the midst of what appeared to be a staring match with Sam. Sam was glaring at Steve, who had his jaw set and a stubborn look on his face. Loki stopped, eyebrows twitching up.

“Loki,” Sam said, not looking away. “Don’t you think Steve looks sick?”

Steve made a frustrated noise. “Now that you’ve said that of course he’s going to. Loki, I’m _fine._ Sam worries too much.”

“Uh huh.”

Loki frowned at Sam but turned to study Steve. He looked…well, he looked tired and frustrated, but neither of those were new. “Perhaps a little pale,” he said cautiously. Sam snorted.

“Come on. You’re being diplomatic now? He looks like he’s about to fall over.”

“I’m just a little tired,” Steve said. “That’s all.”

“What’s all?” Wanda poked her head through the door. “Loki, I wanted to ask – Steve, are you all right? You don’t look well.”

Steve looked skyward and muttered something under his breath.

“Sam thinks Steve is ill,” Loki told Wanda. She frowned.

“ _Sam_ thinks?”

“Steve, predictably,” Loki said, “denies any such thing.”

“I don’t get sick,” Steve said stubbornly. “Not since the serum. I feel _fine._ ”

“Mmm,” Loki said. Steve cast him an accusing, betrayed look. “Steve,” Loki added after a moment, adopting a patient and reasonable tone. “You have friends who worry about you. Perhaps you should rest? It might assuage their concerns – and ill or not, you need it.” 

A part of him was almost relieved. If Sam was right and Steve _was_ sick, or even just overtired - perhaps that would explain the oddities. Or not all of them, but at least some. 

“See?” Sam said. “Your boyfriend agrees with me.”

“I did not say that,” Loki objected, but Steve sighed.

“All right, fine. I guess I can…take a nap.” He pulled a face. “And I’m…sorry. I don’t want to seem ungrateful. Things have just been…” He trailed off.

“We all know how things have been,” Wanda said. She glanced at Loki. “I will talk to you later?”

“As you will,” he said. She left, and Loki held out a hand.

“Come, Captain. With me.”

Steve gave him a tired look. “I’m not a captain anymore.”

“Nonsense,” Loki said firmly. “You will always be mine, at least.”

* * *

Steve crawled out of bed at noon, glassy-eyed and blinking owlishly in the light. “How long did I sleep?”

“Almost twenty hours,” Loki said, turning off the burner and putting the lid on the pot of stew in progress. “Sit down.” Steve stared at him. 

“Twenty _hours?_ I need to - there’re things I need to do. I gotta get dressed-”

“No,” Loki said. “You do not. Sit down.” Perhaps Steve heard something in his voice, because he sat, though his expression turned mulish. “You are sick,” Loki informed him. “Clearly, Sam was right. So you are going to rest until you get well.” 

“I’m not sick,” Steve said stubbornly. “It’s just a cold. _Maybe._ I’m fine.”

“Mm,” Loki said. “You certainly look it.” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “I can take care of myself, Loki.”

“Assuredly,” Loki said. “I would never dare imply otherwise. You would never overload and exhaust yourself by taking on too much.”

Steve scowled. “You’re one to talk.” 

“I am not the one who is sick.” Loki padded over to Steve and crossed his arms. “If you can meet my eyes and tell me honestly that you feel completely healthy and able, I will gladly retract my demand that you rest and you may do whatever you like.”

Steve said nothing for several seconds. “All right,” he said. “One day. That’s all.”

Loki relaxed. In truth, if Steve had refused, he was not certain what he would have done. “Thank you,” he said with a very faint smile. “I have some stew, if you are hungry - as I expect you are, after such a long sleep.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Stew sounds good.” He reached across the couch for a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders despite the warmth of Wakanda’s air. He gave Loki a small, slightly sheepish smile. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” Loki asked. “For falling ill? I doubt that was your intention - unless you were trying to contrive a situation in which I must pamper you. I must say there would be easier ways to do so.” 

Steve shook his head, though with a slight huff of laughter. “I mostly meant for arguing with you. There’s just...a lot that needs doing.” 

“At least some of it can be done without you,” Loki said, retreating to the stove and pulling down a bowl. “The world will survive if you rest for a day.”

“You sure?” Steve asked. “Now that you’ve said that…”

“Well, it will have to,” Loki said. “I command it so.” He brought the steaming bowl over to Steve, who took it carefully in both hands. 

“I miss our apartment,” he said, to his stew rather than Loki. “It was...I know we hadn’t been there long. But I was already thinking of it as home. As ours. And now it’s gone. It’s a silly thing to focus on, I know, but…”

“I do not think it is silly in the least,” Loki said quietly. He sat down next to Steve. “For both of us, I think, home is a fragile thing. Too often and too easily lost. How can it not hurt to have it happen once again?”

Steve sighed, leaning into Loki’s shoulder. “I guess. Seems like maybe I should be used to it by now.”

Loki’s lips twisted up at one corner. “Somehow there is always a way for things to hurt more.”

Steve gave him a sidelong look, and Loki realized abruptly what Steve might have heard in those words. “That’s pretty bleak.”

“Perhaps,” Loki said. “But there is always more we can endure, too.” 

Steve picked up the spoon and stirred the stew slowly. “I suppose there is.”

* * *

Loki woke up somewhere in the middle of the night with something burning against his shoulder. A panicked moment later he realized that it was Steve’s forehead: Steve, blankets cast off and shivering as his skin burned.

A pulse of fear went through Loki’s body and he called on his magic, cooling his hand and pressing his palm to the back of Steve’s neck. He stirred, head turning and eyes opening blearily. “Cold,” he said in a tone of complaint. 

“You’re feverish,” Loki told him, reaching for the blanket and pulling it back up. Steve huddled into it with apparent relief. “ _Very_ feverish. I need to call a healer.” 

“No, no, wait,” Steve said, grabbing for Loki’s arm. “Don’t.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Fever? Can’t be right. I don’t...get sick.” 

An awful thought occurred to Loki and he bent to examine Steve’s eyes, turning them back and forth, sending a wave of magic into his body seeking poisons, infection, a curse. He could sense nothing, but if that was it… “You are certainly sick now,” he said tightly. “I do not know how to treat mortal ailments.”

“That’s fine,” Steve said. “I’m not...I’m okay.”

“Liar,” Loki said flatly. Steve shivered. 

“Can’t afford it,” he murmured. “Doctors are expensive.”

Loki jerked. “I hardly think that King T’Challa will insist we pay.”

Steve blinked slowly, some of the bleariness seeming to clarify. “T’Challa,” he said slowly. “Right. Just...can it wait? I’m tired. I’ll go tomorrow.” 

Disquiet and worry pulsed in Loki’s veins but he sighed. “Very well,” he said. “Tomorrow. Swear to me.” 

“Mmhm,” Steve said. He turned his pillow over and lapsed back onto it, breathing softly through his mouth. Loki looked at him, frowning, but after a long moment just pulled the blanket up over his shoulders and settled back down. 

He slid his hands under Steve’s shirt, though, placing one cool hand on Steve’s ribs. _This is just a simple illness,_ he told himself. _A mortal sickness brought on by exhaustion and stress. Nothing more._

The soothing words did not erase the shadow of fear on Loki’s heart. 

* * *

When Steve woke, though, he refused to go. 

“I’m fine,” he said stubbornly, picking listlessly at his eggs. “I feel a lot better,” and it _was_ true that even if he was pale and sick _looking_ his skin wasn’t burning quite so much as it had been. “I’m not going to waste a doctor’s time by complaining about some cold.” 

“You said yourself that you don’t get ill,” Loki said. “How likely is this to be something so common as a cold?” 

“I’m not _dying,_ Loki,” Steve said, sounding faintly exasperated. “It was probably just a twenty-four hour bug, or I just needed some extra sleep. I have stuff I need to do.” 

“Like what,” Loki said. “Things that cannot wait an hour?” 

“You’re always telling _me_ not to hover,” Steve said, a little pointedly. Loki tried not to feel stung. After a moment Steve sighed. “I’m serious, Loki. I _do_ feel much better. And I’ll take it easy tonight if it makes you worry less. But I’m _fine._ ”

Loki wanted to argue. _Looking_ at Steve he could see it. But he would sound like a fretful fool if he pressed further. He summoned a smile. “If you insist. I apologize if my...nervousness frustrates you.” 

Steve smiled faintly back at him. “It’d make me a bit of a hypocrite to scold you for that, I think.”

He stood up from the table and cleared his dishes, washing them in the sink. “I have to go out for a little while,” he said. “I’m not sure exactly when I’ll be back - don’t feel like you have to wait for me.” 

“How mysterious,” Loki said, trying not to frown. Steve glanced at him over his shoulder and smiled.

“I can be mysterious too,” he said. He turned off the water and started toward the bedroom, only to stop abruptly, leaning against the wall. 

Loki tensed. “Steve?” 

“It’s nothing,” Steve said. “Just…headrush.” He pulled his hand away, frowning, and took two steps. On the second he stumbled like he’d overbalanced. Loki shoved back his chair and moved, grabbing Steve’s arm to support him at the same time as Steve caught himself.

“Perhaps you should sit down,” Loki said. Steve’s face was pale like milk, and Loki could hear his breathing, slightly too loud.

Steve pushed at Loki’s arm. “Let go of me. I’m fine, just a little dizzy.”

That stung, but Loki tried to push the hurt away. “Just a little-” He cut off with an incredulous noise. “You almost fell over. I should not have listened to your claims, better is not _well-_ ” 

“I don’t need you to _hover_ over me.” Steve’s voice was a little sharp, and this time when he pushed Loki let go. “Maybe I’m not feeling my best but I’m not _dying._ So just - leave it alone, all right?”

Loki looked away, his stomach burning. It was _obvious_ that Steve was not well, and he _must_ know it. The problem, then, perhaps wasn’t with Steve. The thought slithering into his mind: _he doesn’t want your help. He doesn’t want_ you. 

He wished that someone else were here. Perhaps Steve would listen to Bucky, or Sam, or even _Wanda,_ over him. “I am worried, Captain. Steve. You _do_ often push yourself too hard and with too little consideration for your limits.” 

Steve threw his hands up and started toward the door. Loki looked helplessly after him, and saw him stop at the door, seeming to waver like he was about to say something. He grabbed onto the door handle, and Loki could hear him breathing hard. 

He saw what was going to happen a moment before it did, but did not move fast enough to catch Steve before he collapsed. 

Loki lunged forward with a cry of alarm, dropping to his knees next to Steve and instinctively checking his breathing and pulse. His skin was clammy to the touch, and his eyes focused slowly. 

“I’m going to take you to bed,” Loki said, quiet but urgent. “And then I am going to find you a healer. No arguments. I will have James here to hold you down if I must.”

Steve blinked at him, but he looked nervous. No, scared. “I thought I was fine,” he said, and shivered. “I mean it, I thought…”

Loki had seen poisons take hold like this. Quick and sudden and vicious. He moved, one arm behind Steve’s back and another under his knees, and took him back to bed. “You will be,” he said, keeping his voice carefully calm. “I swear it. I will be back in a moment.” He paused, hesitating. “Do you need a basin?”

Steve shook his head weakly, curling into himself and shivering. Loki summoned the warmer of his robes and threw it over him, not wanting to make Steve move off the blankets. Then he left, jaw set, to find one of Wakanda’s healers. He would drag them back with him if he had to.

* * *

He did not have to drag anyone. Loki encountered T’Challa, who either heard him coming or sensed his approach and turned from the conversation he was having. 

It was hard for Loki to say exactly where he stood with the Wakandan king, which he did not doubt was intentional. It was clear there was no _fondness,_ but neither was there any particular hostility. Thus far, at least, the old diplomatic training had not failed him. 

Though title or no, he restrained his inclined head to that of visiting nobility to a ruler not theirs. “Your Highness,” he said, “if you will pardon the interruption, I would ask that you direct a healer to Steve Rogers, and swiftly - or else tell me where I might find one.”

T’Challa’s eyebrows twitched very slightly. “He is ill?”

Loki nearly felt himself bristle, a whispering warning saying _show no weakness._ But that was patently absurd. T’Challa was already in more than enough of a position to exploit previous weakness, and had not, for whatever inscrutable reasons. “Indeed,” he said simply. “So it would seem.” 

T’Challa looked at him and Loki stared back, waiting. “I will send someone immediately,” he said after a couple of breaths. “I would not leave a guest untended.” 

“Certainly not,” Loki said coolly. One of T’Challa’s eyebrows twitched up a little higher. 

“If you have something to say, please, say it,” he said. 

_I do not understand your motivations and so cannot trust you,_ Loki thought, but shook his head and stepped back. “Nothing. I thank you for your assistance.”

“Loki,” T’Challa said, even as he turned away. Loki glanced back. “I consider my word my bond,” he said. “You do, I think, understand that. None have ever conquered Wakanda, and none come here without my leave.”

“Is that reassurance?” Loki asked.

“It should be.”

Loki studied T’Challa for a long moment, then sketched a bow, a little lower. “I suppose it is.”

T’Challa’s lips moved toward what might, if one tried, be a bit of a smile. “One of my doctors will be there soon. Tell Captain Rogers that I hope he recovers soon.”

Loki entertained himself briefly with the mental image of T’Challa and Odin meeting, wondering who would blink first. He dismissed the thought a moment later, returning back to Steve. 

He was, to Loki’s relief, still curled up in bed and dozing. Loki left him alone, though he did fill a glass of water and set it on the bedside table. As T’Challa had promised, a healer did indeed come soon. Loki woke Steve gently; for a moment he looked confused and disoriented, but then his eyes cleared. 

“The healer - doctor - is here,” Loki said, and Steve grimaced and sat up, rubbing his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he said, to the man patiently waiting near the doorway. “I’m feeling better now than I was, really.”

“He fell down earlier after saying the same thing,” Loki said dryly. He stepped back and watched as the doctor inspected Steve, though he stayed close. 

“How long have you been feeling under the weather?” The doctor asked. Steve opened his mouth, glanced at Loki, and seemed to reconsider. “Maybe a couple days? Three or four?”

“And the fever?” 

“First noticed a couple nights ago. But it fluctuates.” Steve shifted. “I don’t really get sick. As a rule.” 

“Mm,” said the doctor, apparently unimpressed. “I’d have to take a throat swab to be certain, but I’m fairly certain that you’ve caught the foreigner’s flu.”

Steve blinked. “The flu?” 

The doctor smiled faintly. “It’s a bit of a misnomer. A peculiar syndrome that periodically afflicts strangers to our country. It isn’t usually fatal-”

“What?” Loki said sharply. 

“And this doesn’t look like a severe case,” the doctor said firmly, glancing at him. “Still, I would recommend rest, fluids, medicine to manage fever...however you would usually handle a flu. I wouldn’t worry unless you notice a purplish rash or numbness and swelling in the face.” Steve looked a bit stricken, but he nodded slowly. 

“One other thing,” the doctor said. “While your strain isn’t serious...this disease can be highly contagious. I would keep your distance from your friends, Captain Rogers, until you’re well.” Steve looked at Loki, but he shook his head. 

“If I haven’t fallen ill yet then I doubt I am going to. Besides, your diseases aren’t adapted to infect me. Or at least they have not managed to do so thus far.” 

Steve did not seem reassured, nor did he seem pleased. “How long does it usually take to get over this thing?” 

“No more than seven days. If it persists longer than that, or the symptoms I mentioned emerge...you should seek me out again.” That last seemed directed at Loki, and he inclined his chin to show he’d heard. 

Steve sighed, grimacing. “Why would this only affect me?” he asked. “Why not the other members of my team without - enhanced immune systems?” 

The doctor shrugged. “I don’t have a simple explanation, but it is consistent with what we know about the disease. It frequently targets the stronger individuals of any given group.” Loki thought of Wanda, and wondered if he ought to check on her, but no doubt her brother would see to it if she were unwell.

However, that information was interesting for another reason. Loki waited until the doctor had departed to check his theory, and huffed a laugh. “It _is_ magic,” he said. “Just...very old and unfamiliar.” 

Steve gave him an odd, disconcerted look, reaching for the blanket to wrap it around himself. “What’s magic?” 

“This illness,” Loki said. “A curse, I would guess. Cast by some long ago mage in defense of their homeland, perhaps. To sicken and strike down the leader of any invading force.” 

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m...not an invading force.” 

“No,” Loki agreed. “But you are a leader, and a stranger in this land.” He half smiled. “And, it seems, confined to these rooms and my company until you are well.” 

Steve shivered, huddling more deeply into the blanket. “Sorry.” 

“Why apologize?” Loki said, running his fingers through Steve’s hair. “This means I have you all to myself, doesn’t it?” 

Steve closed his eyes and dropped his head forward against Loki’s stomach. “Don’t know that I’ll make great company.”

Loki bent down to kiss Steve’s forehead, then his mouth. “I do not think you could be _poor_ company.” 

Steve inhaled, the sound of it a little harsh. “A week. I can’t be benched for a _week._ ”

“I think in this case, beloved,” Loki said, “you will have to be.”

* * *

Steve slept for most of the day. Loki stayed close, but for a short exit to inform Sam - and James, who happened to be with him - what was going on. Sam seemed to take the news with relative equanimity, but James looked alarmed. 

“Steve’s sick? Is he coughing? How high’s his fever?” 

“Yes, no, and when the doctor checked I believe it was - 38 degrees?” Which didn’t mean much to him, but seemed to to James. 

“If he starts coughing you need to make sure he’s sitting up. Steam’s good, and-”

“Bucky,” Sam said, his eyebrows twitching up a little, “you _do_ know he’s not a ninety pound asthmatic anymore, right?” 

The look James shot Sam suggested that he might have forgotten it, or else was not certain that was true. Loki half smiled.

“I may not be so familiar with caring for Steve through illness as you,” he murmured, “but I _do_ think I can manage.” And if there was perhaps just a little more firmness than was strictly necessary...Loki did not want to look too closely at why. 

“Yeah,” James allowed, finally. “Right.” 

Returning to Steve, Loki found that he had kicked the blankets off and his face was flushed brightly. Loki paced over and set a hand to his forehead. Steve turned toward it with a small noise. 

“Feels good,” he murmured.

“Have you gotten worse?” Loki asked a little anxiously. Steve blinked at him like he did not quite understand the question. 

“Were you here earlier?” Steve asked, frowning. “I thought you were here, but then you were gone.”

“Maybe I should go fetch the healer,” Loki said, concern forming a knot in his chest. Steve reached out and grabbed his arm. 

“No! Don’t go. I’ve...been worse than this.” 

Loki hesitated, wondering if he ought to go anyway. “How is your face? Any itching?” 

“Just...hot.” Steve shifted, shivering again, and Loki glanced at his bare feet. 

“You need to be careful not to get chilled,” he said, pulling his hand away. Steve made a soft noise of protest, presumably at the loss of the cold, but Loki stood and crossed the room to find him some socks. 

“You don’t need to babysit me,” Steve said, sounding a touch more coherent. “Honestly. I’ll be fine.”

“Is this what I sound like when I attempt to refuse your caretaking?” Loki asked lightly. Steve huffed. 

“No,” he said. “You’re worse.”

Loki cast a faint smile over his shoulder. “Then this should be no trouble for you to accept.” More soberly, he added, “I am not going to leave you to suffer in solitude.” 

“I’m not _suffering,_ ” Steve said, though given how he started to shiver immediately after saying it, the words were not particularly convincing. 

“I’m sure,” Loki said mildly. The face Steve made in his direction was somewhat of a relief.

* * *

Less of a relief was the fact that Steve did not seem to improve. If anything, he seemed to get worse. His temperature rose and fell, but it peaked ever higher - not yet an emergency, but bad enough. There were medicines, apparently, but they seemed to have no effect. Loki tried again to pry the sickness-curse loose with his magic, but there was nothing to get ahold of - whatever magic it was made from was either so faded or so foreign that he could not unravel it. 

Steve moved in and out of feverish and restless dreams. He would take soup but showed interest in little else. Loki had moved Steve out to the couch while he heated some soup - chicken noodle, a human staple for the ill - with no more than a brief, vague protest that he could walk. 

“Ma?” Steve said, his voice small and thin, and Loki’s breath caught. He turned from the stove, some wild part of his mind thinking _ghosts reaching out for him from elsewhere,_ thinking _high fevers lead to hallucinations, seizures, death._

“Steve?” 

“Loki,” Steve said after a second’s pause. “You’re not...m’I dreaming?”

Loki walked swiftly over, knelt down next to him and took Steve’s face between his hands. “I am here,” he said. “I am real.” 

“I thought…” Steve trailed off, one of his hands rising to wrap around Loki’s wrist, the skin of his palm too hot. “I dreamed you died. Everyone died. I couldn’t save…”

“Hush,” Loki said. “I am alive. You needn’t save anyone just now.” Steve blinked slowly at him, his cheeks flushed and eyes glassy with fever. His fingers squeezed. 

“Thought I saw my ma,” Steve mumbled. “But that was dreaming. Right. The TB got her last year - no…” He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly trying to focus. “Bucky?” 

Some sour part of Loki still knotted. “Not here right now,” he said. “I can fetch him, if you like.”

Steve shook his head. “Nah. He shouldn’t...I can do it on my own.” 

Another pang. “Do you need to?” Loki asked. 

“Have to prove I can,” Steve said. “Can’t - be a burden my whole life.” He seemed to focus slightly and looked at Loki, frowning. “Loki?” 

“Yes,” he said again. 

“Hurts. Haven’t felt this sick since…I don’t remember. Before the war. I could - could use a block of ice now, huh?” He smiled, strained and weak. Loki tried not to wince, wondering if he could ask for something stronger, something that might be able to _help._ He channeled cold through his fingers again, cupping the back of Steve’s neck. He went limp with relief. 

“Thank you,” Steve said. “You’re - thank you.” 

“You can thank me when you are well. Let me get you water, and then you should sleep.” Loki stood and turned toward the kitchen, pulling his arm gently free of Steve’s weak grip. He turned off the stove and put a lid on the soup for later.

“I wasn’t choosing Bucky over you,” Steve said suddenly, and Loki froze. He started moving again only a moment later, pulling down a glass and filling it from the tap. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I didn’t...or I didn’t mean to. I thought...I thought you would get away. For sure. That was the only reason I left you there.” Steve’s voice was blurry, but the words were clear. “I kept telling myself that, that you knew what you were doing. Did you - did you?” 

Loki came slowly back over and sat down, holding the glass. “Did I know what?”

“Did you know that you couldn’t...that they could take your magic away. That you wouldn’t escape.” 

“No,” Loki said, not quite a lie. “I did not know that Stark had managed to duplicate Doom’s technology to that extent, though in retrospect I probably should have.”

“How can I believe you?” Steve asked, his voice plaintive. “How can I know that you didn’t...didn’t just _decide_ that you thought it was worthwhile to sacrifice yourself for us? For me?”

“You need to drink,” Loki said instead of answering, and held out the glass. Steve pushed at his hand.

“No. Answer the question.”

Loki studied Steve’s flushed face and exhaled. “I knew it was a possibility,” he said. “That is the only thing I accepted. That it was a possibility.”

“I should never have left you there.” Steve closed his eyes. “You know what I...what I thought when Tony told me you’d been captured? _They’re going to kill him._ I wasn’t sure they hadn’t, right up until I saw you in that cage.” 

Loki’s stomach burned. “Steve,” he said cautiously. “I…”

“If I’d known,” Steve said, his voice trailing off, clearly exhausted by his outburst. “I would’ve...would’ve thrown you over my shoulder and dragged you with me.” He slumped back into the couch. 

“I never thought you were choosing,” Loki said quietly, even if it was not quite true. Somewhere, perhaps, in a dark corner of his heart, the thought had been there. 

“You swear,” Steve said. “You _swear_ you weren’t throwing your life away.”

“I swear.”

Steve relaxed with a great sigh of relief, tension bleeding out of his body. Loki pushed the water glass toward him again and this time Steve took it. “I did not know you were so afraid,” Loki said, after he’d drunk half of the glass. 

“Course I am,” Steve said wearily. “How many times have you tried, Loki? Or, or, whatever you want to call it. You’re always...just inches away from that edge and I’m scared that I can’t hold on hard enough.”

Loki reached for Steve’s free hand resting on the blanket and drew it to his lips, pressing them lightly to his dry, warm knuckles. “Steve,” he said, stomach burning and heart aching. “I am not...so desperate as that. Nor in such a hurry to leave you.” 

“It’s a fight,” Steve said. “I know it. All the time. Some days more than others. But you just...keep going.” 

_You too?_ Loki thought, and ached. He supposed, though, that he should not be surprised. Loki squeezed his eyes closed like that would help him hold back the tears. “Ah, Steve.”

“Love you,” Steve murmured. “So damn much.”

Loki took the water glass before it could spill and tucked the blanket more securely around Steve. “I hope you know how beloved you are,” he said. “Not only by me.”

Steve smiled very faintly, already half asleep. 

* * *

Loki dozed off on the couch and woke up to Steve shouting and struggling. He lashed out, one of his fists hitting Loki’s chest hard enough to bruise. “Steve!” Loki said, reaching out with magic at the same time to coax him free of the tangle of nightmares ensnaring him. “Steve, you are safe-”

“No,” Steve panted, almost moaned. “I won’t - you can’t make me-”

Loki’s heart lurched but he kept his grip on Steve’s arms. “Listen to me, Steve. My voice.” His face scrunched up and his eyes opened, but they wouldn’t quite focus. Loki released one of his wrists to feel Steve’s forehead and found it dry, hot. He moved, picking Steve up and carrying him over to the bathroom. A flick of magic to turn the bath to a tepid temperature, then he set Steve down and began unclothing him. Steve twisted, murmuring incoherently. 

“Loki, please,” Steve said suddenly, his eyelids fluttering, and Loki looked up sharply, something stabbing through him, sick misery slithering through his gut. _See,_ it whispered. _He fears you._

“Hush,” he said, all the same, but Steve reached out seemingly blindly. 

“I need...Loki, I need help,” he said, and Loki rocked back slightly. “Where are you? We have to, we have to go. Red Skull…”

“I’m here,” Loki said. His voice sounded unsteady, and he repeated the words to try to make them sturdier: “I’m here.” He looked at the deep, sunken bathtub and then at Steve, lying limp against its side, and started removing his own clothing. Steve licked his lips. 

“You have to tell the others,” Steve said, his voice raw and rough. “He’s...Skull’s working with him. Thanos. They’re gonna…” He sat up, abruptly, eyes widening. “You need to leave, Loki, leave me here, they’re looking for you-”

His own nightmares, Loki thought, bleeding into Steve’s, and if Thanos’s name made him shudder he pushed his own reaction away, picking Steve up again and stepping into the bath. 

“It’s safe,” he murmured. “We’re hidden here. I’ll tell them.”

“Are you sure?” Steve sounded fretful, anxious. “They can’t find us here? You’re sure?”

“I am sure.” Loki sank down slowly, easing Steve into the water. He jerked. 

“No,” he said. “No, not the water.”

Loki closed his eyes for just a moment. “I’m right here. You are not going to drown. You are not going to freeze.” He found a ledge on the side of the bath and sat down, settling Steve on his lap where his hot face was against Loki’s shoulder. “You’re all right. I will protect you. I swear it.”

“The war follows me,” Steve mumbled into his skin. “Everywhere I go. I’m never...I’m never going to leave it behind.”

“I won’t believe that,” Loki said firmly. “You will have peace, Steve. Someday, you will have the happiness you deserve.” 

“With you,” Steve said. “I want to have that with you. Don’t leave. Don’t _leave._ Everyone always - I need you to _stay._ ” One of his hands pressed flat against Loki’s chest. Loki turned his face into Steve’s hair. 

“I want to,” he said quietly. 

“Then do.” Steve’s voice sounded steadier. “ _Stay._ ”

Loki wavered. “We cannot know what will come,” he said. 

“Doesn’t matter.”

Loki’s heart felt almost bitterly full. “I’ll stay,” he said, after a moment of teetering indecision. “Steve, my heart. I won’t leave you.” He took a deep breath. “I swear on Yggdrasil itself, and may the worlds end ere I be forsworn.” 

“I’m so tired,” Steve said. “Can I rest?” Was it just the effect of the water or did he feel cooler? Loki couldn’t tell.

“Yes,” Loki said. “Rest. You deserve it.”

Steve didn’t wake when Loki lifted him out of the bath perhaps a half an hour later when the water had gone from tepid to cold. Loki carried him back to the bed and tucked the blankets in around him, but he stayed fast asleep, breathing slow and even. 

* * *

Steve’s fever broke sometime in the night, though he had already been easing away from the worst of it for hours. He crawled out of bed on his own while Loki was eating quiche for breakfast and smiled wanly - still pale, still weak, but standing. 

“Got anything lighter than that? I’m starving.” 

The relief that broke over Loki took him by surprise; he hadn’t realized how concerned he had been, after all. He smiled more easily and gestured at the chair across from him. “Sit. I can make you some...would oatmeal do?” 

“Sounds perfect.” Steve sank into the chair, blinking like a man just crawled out of a cave into the sun. “Mmm. I haven’t felt this sore since my first day at Camp Lehigh.”

“I can draw you a hot bath later, if you like.” 

“I think I can do _that_ much. But thanks.” Steve fidgeted a little, his wan smile fading. “And...thanks for looking after me.”

“It was the least I could do.” Loki wondered how much Steve remembered of everything he’d said while delirious. He wasn’t sure what he hoped. “And certainly no more than you would do for me. Have done.” 

Steve shook his head. “I’m not keeping score.” 

Loki brought over the bowl of hot oatmeal and set it down in front of Steve. “Remember to eat slowly. You haven’t had much these past five days.” 

Steve dropped his spoon, eyes widening. “Five _days?_ ” Loki blinked, his eyebrows twitching up. “I thought - one, maybe two…” Steve looked surprised and horrified, his shoulders slumping down. “I had plans.”

Loki managed not to scoff. “Steve, whatever you were doing, I am sure it could wait. You were feverish, _delirious._ You can hardly hold it against yourself that you could not see to whatever it was you wished to do.”

“It’s not…” Steve’s lips twisted a little. “It’s not about the team. Not work.” 

Loki felt a twist of unease and raised his eyebrows. “No?” 

“No,” Steve said, looking down at his oatmeal. “It’s...oh, never mind. It’s all right.”

_No,_ Loki thought, _there is something, but you do not want to tell me._ “It cannot be that important,” Loki said. “Or, if it was, someone else will have seen to it.” 

Steve looked down like he disagreed, but he didn’t argue. 

“Five days,” he said finally. “That means tomorrow’s midwinter. Ha.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t feel much like it.” Loki suspected he didn’t just mean the heat. 

“The festive spirit has been a bit lacking,” Loki agreed. “But perhaps that is for the best. You may not be delirious anymore, but you still need rest.” 

“You sound like my mother,” Steve said. 

“From what I hear,” Loki said evenly, “she was a wise woman and I am honored by the comparison.”

* * *

It was selfish, and Loki knew it, but some part of him was eased by how Steve had relied on him during his illness. Perhaps, he hoped, whatever had been awry would be mended now, whatever had been troubling Steve forgotten. 

That hope lasted only overnight. 

“I gotta go out for a bit,” Steve announced over breakfast. Loki looked up sharply, frowning. 

“Out where?” He asked. Steve looked away from him, fidgeting. 

“Just - out. Getting a little cabin fever, I guess. Need some fresh air.” 

“You’re still mending,” Loki said. “You probably should not go far, and I can come with you-”

“No!” Steve said loudly. Loki jerked in surprise, staring at Steve, who looked a little panicked. “No, you don’t need to do that. It’s fine. I don’t want to put you out.” 

“It would hardly be any trouble,” Loki said, unease creeping into his gut. “On the contrary. It would be my pleasure.” 

“Well, thank you, but…” Steve trailed off, plainly seeking a suitable excuse. Loki tried not to let his dismay show on his face, summoning a smile. 

“Understood, Steve. May I ask that you not go alone, however? You may be much improved, but I would not say you are entirely well yet.” He picked up his plate and cleared it away. 

“Loki-” Steve stopped, and Loki turned, waiting. Steve looked like he was struggling to say something and could not quite find the right words. He swallowed, shook his head. “It’s not like that,” Steve said. “Not that I don’t want to be around you, or anything. I promise.” 

_Then what is it,_ Loki wanted to ask. _What_ is _going on, what do you want of me, what are you hiding that is so dreadful you cannot tell me?_ He bit his tongue and nodded. Steve looked uncertain. 

“You believe me?” He said. “You sure?” 

_Just tell me,_ Loki thought miserably. _Just tell me now and be done with it._ But he was too much a coward. If for some reason Steve still held back...he could not make himself strip away that kindness. “Of course,” he said, tongue leaden. Steve’s eyebrows knit together and after a moment he stood up, making his way a little unsteadily over to Loki. 

“I love you,” he said, not quite a question.

Loki kissed him softly. “I love you.”

After Steve was gone, Loki sank into one of the chairs, staring at the wall. It was clear that he’d been wrong to think anything was mended - it might even be worse. It made sense. If Steve had already had doubts, or uncertainties - to then have his weaknesses laid bare, to be placed in such a vulnerable position, utterly reliant on Loki-

He knew how _he_ would feel.

His stomach ached. And of course all he could do was try to allow Steve whatever room he needed and hope that this was something passing, and not the beginning of the end.

* * *

Steve all but shoved Loki out the door.

Oh, he said it was for Loki’s sake - _you need space, you’ve been shut up in here for days, go for a walk -_ but Loki was not fooled. He did not argue, though he did feel a slight pang that Steve had moved from leaving Loki’s company to pushing Loki away from his. 

He ran into Sam while wandering somewhat aimlessly, and perhaps his directionlessness was visible on his face because Sam turned and made a path toward him. “Long time no see,” he said. “How’s it going?” 

“I cannot complain,” Loki said with a shrug. “Steve has sent me off, being, I suspect, rather sick of my company.” He half smiled, faintly self-deprecating. Sam snorted. 

“I doubt that.” Loki scoffed and Sam’s expression twitched. “No, seriously. I really doubt that.” 

Loki decided it was not worth arguing and instead examined Sam. “And how do you fare?” 

“I’ve decided I don’t like tropical weather,” Sam said. “Or trees. I get that T’Challa doesn’t want us wandering around his country but I’d really like to get a day trip to a city or something.”

“You could go flying,” Loki offered. 

“Yeah, no,” Sam said. “Not when we’re trying to stay low. Putting the Falcon suit in the air is like waving a big flag: _we’re here, come get us!_ I don’t want to get a bunch of soldiers killed trying to invade Wakanda. Nah, I’ll deal.” 

“You have my sympathies,” Loki said sincerely. “I would offer to take you worldwalking, but as I recall you did not enjoy the experience.” 

Sam made a face. “Yeah. No offense, but I think I’ll pass. And hey, I’m dealing better than Pietro. He hasn’t stopped complaining since we got here, I swear.”

“I think that may be a sign of health, rather,” Loki said dryly. “I personally would not be concerned until he _stops_ complaining.” Sam snorted again, and Loki snuck a sidelong glance at him. “How do you think Steve is doing?” He asked carefully.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Seems you’d know better than me.” 

Loki shook his head. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he shows me a different face than he shows you. You were the one who noticed he was unwell.” 

“I’m more used to sick people than you are,” Sam said, but he made a thoughtful noise. “You mean, how’s Steve doing? A lot better than I’d expect. Sure, he’s stressed, tired, wearing himself thin - what else is new. But this...mess? Whatever kind of disaster it was, I think it clarified things for him. He’s more focused now. More...sure. Does that makes sense?” 

“It does,” Loki said slowly. It meshed with his own observations, but at the same time…

“Something bothering you?” Sam asked. 

Loki sighed. “I hesitate to say anything.” 

“Hit me,” Sam said. Loki studied him. He liked Sam, was friendly with him, but confiding in him...was not something he had done before. But he supposed this wasn’t really about _him._ Not exactly. 

“Steve has been...absent more than usual,” Loki said. “He is vague about his destination, where he goes and what he is doing. I...wonder what it is that has him so preoccupied. That is all.” 

Sam’s expression spasmed a little, and Loki knew before he spoke that Sam was going to lie. “Huh,” he said. “Weird. I don’t know.” 

Loki gave Sam a weary look. “You really should not bother trying to lie to me. I am much better at it than you. Or most.” 

Sam looked only a little embarrassed. “What are you worried he’s up to? I promise he’s not trying to raise any dead bodies.” Loki looked at him blankly, and Sam sighed. “Right. But you know what I mean. This is Steve.” 

_Yes,_ Loki thought but did not say. _I know. And I worry that he is moving away from me._ But he made himself nod. “Of course.” 

Sam looked at him and shook his head. They walked a little further in silence, Loki lost in the unhappy snarl of his own thoughts. Sam knew something, then - of course he did. Did James, as well? Did _everyone_ but him, was he to be the last to know what was wrong?

Loki glanced at Sam sidelong, fighting the urge to press him for more. _Tell me,_ he wanted to snarl. _Whatever secret you are keeping, please, tell me. I would rather know. This is not kindness._

He held his tongue.

They’d gone some way - to a room with a sunken pool in the middle, inhabited by brightly colored fish - when Loki heard a loud buzz. Sam pulled out his phone and checked it before dropping it back in his pocket. 

“Bucky,” he said. “He says you need to come back.” Loki’s stomach lurched and the alarm must’ve shown on his face, because Sam added, “I don’t think anything’s happened. If Steve were in danger he wouldn’t be texting.” 

Loki rolled his shoulders back nervously, but he supposed that was true. “Well then,” he said. “I suppose I had better go. It was...good to speak with you.” 

Sam half smiled. “Bet it was. We could even do it more often.”

“Perhaps we might,” Loki said, offering his own fractional smile.

* * *

Loki made his way back, still frowning despite Sam’s reassurance. James was standing by the door outside their rooms, a peculiar expression on his face. Loki slowed his pace. 

“Ought I be concerned?” He asked, trying for lightness though something wary started to burn in his stomach. “This all has a bit of the feeling of a conspiracy.” 

“Paranoid,” James said, and half smiled. “Nah. No conspiracy. Have a good night.” He patted Loki on the shoulder and moved off. Loki stared after him and almost cautiously opened the door. 

The lights had been turned down and there was familiar music playing: Steve’s music, the apparently old-fashioned sort of thing that he loved. Steve was standing in the middle of the room, still pale. Sickness, Loki judged, but he also seemed nervous, vulnerable. Loki felt a flash of fear. 

“What is this?” He asked. 

“I was going to do more. I was working on putting together - but then I got sick and, well, stuff fell through, and I was thinking about just putting it off but Sam said-”

“Steve,” Loki said, taking a slight step toward him. “What in the Nine are you babbling about?” 

“Come here,” Steve said. “Let’s...sit.” They settled on the couch, and Steve rubbed the back of his neck, fidgeting with something in his other hand. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, and for a stomach-turning moment Loki thought he was going to say _I think we should end this, I think you should leave._ “I’ve been thinking about - time, I guess. Maybe it was...Peggy dying that started it off, but it’s not just that - I always feel like I don’t have enough time. For everything. But I keep putting things off, things _I_ want, because I need to...meet expectations. Save the world.” Steve looked down at his hands, now fidgeting in his lap. “But that’s...we might not have that much time. We could all die tomorrow, or in a year, but I can’t just live waiting for that. Or I shouldn’t. And this, this _thing_ with Tony...I had to make choices, and it made some things clear. For me.”

Loki blinked, frowned. “I am afraid I am not following.” 

Steve took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m tired of saying _wait and see,_ ” he said. “The future is...maybe this Titan will kill us all. But I want to…” He trailed off, paused, began again. “Look. It doesn’t have to mean...anything formal or official or...or it can. If you want. But I want to have something, something to _show_ that I’m serious. About you. About us.” 

Loki blinked again. Thought of Steve in the bath saying _I need you to stay._ He almost swayed. “Steve…”

Steve bit his lip and pulled out the small box he’d been fidgeting with. He held it out and Loki took it, opened it slowly. 

Two rings. Silver - no, Loki realized. “Vibranium,” Steve said with a small smile. “T’Challa was, uh, well. It’s not...traditional. But vibranium is - almost impossible to break, and it absorbs any energy you throw at it. I thought...it seemed fitting.” 

Every word had deserted him. Loki stared at the rings, his eyes starting to burn. 

“Loki?” Steve asked. He sounded so uncertain. “Like I said, it doesn’t have to be...I’m not expecting a _wedding,_ or anything. It’s just...just a way of showing that - however long we have, whatever that means - we stick together. You and me. Us.” 

_Oh,_ Loki thought. _Oh._

“It’s all right,” Steve said, his voice unsteady. “If you need to - if you need to think, or anything, I can go-”

“No,” Loki managed to say. His voice shook and he moved, finally, reached out to catch Steve’s arm. “Don’t.”

Steve held very still. “Loki? Are you - you’re _crying._ ” He sounded horrified, and Loki laughed, helplessly. 

“It’s too much,” he said. “You know how that is? When you feel so much that you might burst.” 

Steve swallowed. “And what...what are you feeling?” 

Loki closed his eyes. How to put a name to it? Joy, love, disbelief, terror, awe. _Everything._

But in the end, there was only one word that he really needed. 

“Yes,” he said.


End file.
